Bonnaroo: Getting there

Strapped for cash and humbled by my experience with WET, I decided to volunteer at Bonnaroo. To my dismay and horror all the WET applications were filled up when I looked (they re-opened about a week later). So I looked at other volunteer options. And let me tell ya, I thought I was a pretty decent google-searcher, but searching for volunteer companies at music festivals showed me otherwise.

Luckily my friend told me about Clean Vibes,  a company dedicated to waste management. I signed up, anxiously waited 72 hours to hear back, and shortly after I was all set to work Post Shift Clean-up. My friend Brittany did the same, and we were ready to go.

One problem solved, onto the next.

We were car-less. Luckily my Dad is the man/the nicest guy in the world and let us use his car for the trip. My lovely little Saturn wouldn’t have lasted that long a drive.

Britt made this sign for our car ride!

We made it to Chattanooga, TN in about 14 hours. That night we stayed with a friend of a friend’s (now a friend of ours 🙂 ) We were exhausted from the drive, but still didn’t get to sleep until pretty late. We stayed up executing our plan to ensure a good camping spot. We all set our alarms for around 7 a.m. to try to beat the Bonnaroo traffic. Some camping spots are an hour walk to Centeroo, the main area of the festival, and we didn’t want to get stuck with one due to poor planning. (Turns out planning doesn’t even matter in regards to camping spots at Bonnaroo. Most of it is sheer luck.)

“Check your cars to make sure no one broke in,” We woke up hours late to our host, Beth, saying. Someone broke into her boyfriend’s car. Frazzled and suddenly alert we checked our cars and found out they were safe. It was time to depart.

Us with the whole city of Chattanooga behind us

After about 40 minutes of cruising down Route 24 we saw a huge trail of cars stopped on the shoulder. According to our handy-dandy GPS directions we were still a couple miles from the exit but this appeared to be the line. So we tried to cut in. Not a good idea. Out of nowhere a state trooper on a motorcycle appeared at our car window, screaming, “Are you trying to cut in line?”

-Me, replying meekly and weakly, “No.”

-Crazy testosterone-pumping-in-every-body part-man inches from my face, “GET OUTTA HERE! DO YOU WANT A TICKET!”

Bonnaroo Traffic use Shoulder

We quickly ditched that idea and tried to find a spot elsewhere. Luckily enough some cars let all three cars in our party in together. And it was miles from that scary, power-driven man. Two bad starts to the day, but the excitement and anticipation built up nonetheless.

We had about five miles, probably less to our exit. We waited in shoulder traffic for six hours.

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